


He is My Design

by cannibalzombie



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Frankenstein AU, monster!hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalzombie/pseuds/cannibalzombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retired teacher and doctor Will Graham, lives a peaceful life with 7 foot monster named Hannibal. Then the murders begin and Graham's skills become known to police chief, Mr. Crawford. As they continue, more and more evidence points to Graham's residence and he must face the inevitable truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He is My Design

**Author's Note:**

> The next 4 chapters are finished, but unedited. I'll finish ironing out the kinks and the last chapter if a couple of people wish to finish reading it. If not, it will all be posted whenever I have the free time to get to it.

I dragged myself onto Crawford's sofa. He soon came in, I suspect to investigate the sudden noise I brought along with me.

"My god man! What happened?" He rushed over to my side, pulling a chair behind him. He was always one for comfert.

"H-Hannibal." My eyes stayed pointed down.

"Who?"

"My mons--, my creation."

I glanced up to see Jack rub his face. He looked back at me, "Your what?"

"My creature. I made life, Jack and I'm sorry."

He was obvioulsy confused, "Sorry for what?"

"He was the killer."

            Jack was a loss for words. I think the confusion the situation brought was the only thing powerful enough to surpress his anger.

"Why don't you just explain everything. From the begining."

"It is quite a long story," I tried to laugh out.

"Then you better hurry."

            I let out a long breath, trying not to flinch. I tempted to set myself up but Jack held me down.

"Ok, well, you hired me a week after I made him....

*

            Hannibal was kept in my old house. It sat up on a hill and surronding it was miles of forestry. I was just leaving him to do my shopping. That is when I passed you and the crime scene of Mr. Victor Frank. Murder happened almost never so my curosity forced me to check it out, for if you couldn't tell by my creation of life from death, my intrests lay toward the more morbid view of living. Surronding the scene were confused police men, I managed to see the torn body through the gaps they made.

"May I offer a suggestion?"

            That is when you, Crawford, turned over to me.  "

*

            I looked up at Jack. He had on the same face as then. He always did, no matter the situation.

"You still look very foul, even now. Has anyone ever told you?"

Jack grunted, "Back to the story."

"Alright...

*

 You turned to me and said "What the hell would you know about this?"

"Based off the given state of the body and surrondings, I can give an estimate." I adjusted my purse which I had slung across my chest.

            You turned your head back to the others, all I heard was mumbling but they all must have been telling you not to let me talk. That didn't affect you though for the next thing you said was, "Have at it."

            I headed back away from the body about half a mile, I was hoping you didn't think I gave up since I left with no word. When I returned everyone was still standing and waiting, you even had a scribe there to write everything I had to say. I looked closer at the body before stepping to the side and explaining what happened.

*

Jack interrupted the story, "I still have that paper."

            He bent over and took out a journal from under the corner table. Inside was a slightly ripped paper and on it was my first analyzation.

            Jack proceeded to read it:

_He stalked Mr. Frank from his house, this prevents his tracks from being followed. He keeps a distant and makes no sound, it is not the time to strike yet. Mr. Frank stops, this is his chance. He charges, he is yelling but it is too late. Mr. Frank has no time to run. Mr. Frank is tackled to the ground. He is extremley heavy, Mr. Frank can not move. He rips open the chest with his finger nails, he wants Mr. Frank alive. He procceeds to rip out the organs, stuffing them in his mouth. Mr. Frank dies screaming._

*

            Everyone paused after I said that, except the writer who was finishing my last comments. Then, as so clearly remeber, one of your guys made his way toward me and asked, "How _the hell_ did you come to that boy?"

"The evidence shows." I replied bluntly.

            Nobody spoke so I tried to explain better, "The footprints, there is only one pattern. Around Mr. Frank's there is a larger lining surronding it. That is where the killer stepped but he has much larger feet so he couldn't obsure them completly."

You then spoke up, "That is quite a gift you have. I could use your help on future murder cases."

"I rather not."

"They don't happen often here if you haven't notice, so you won't be needed that often anyway. What do you say?"

            You made a point I had thought of earlier which prevented me from arguing it.  I agreed to job, quickly particapted in plesantries and dashed out from the crowd. After that I went to do the shopping. I won't bore you with those minimal details, I was just picking up things for Hannibal. He wouldn't be recived well if he ventured out to the public so his shopping was left up to me.

            As I finished my trek up the hill, I passed what was left of the murder scene. The police were gone and the body had been moved. The grass was still stained red and there was a shrine of rocks atop of them. As you must of known I would, I investaged what was there. It was a sheet a paper with your address and name.

"A little elarbroate, _Craw_ ford." I had said to myself.

            I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket. Then I straightened my waistcoat thinking it would stop the sheet from falling. I finished the walk up the hill and was soon greeted by Hannibal attempting art with one of my spare scapels. As I stepped next to him I noticed the art he had made was from what appeared to be organs. They were positioned on a table very neatly and exactly 23 millimeters laid between each one, this is what Hannibal stated when I inquired about them. He said he got them from squirrels, chimpmunks and one rabbit. It all made sense, they were small, except one. I only assume now the larger heart he was holding belonged to Mr. Victor Frank. I don't even recall the answer he gave me for the size of it, it must have been believable for I never questioned it.

            Continuing on, I rested the shopping on the table and proceeded to place them away. No need for those details either, I hope. Hannibal never said a word to me the entire time, too distracted by his first blood most likely. After I placed away the food, I returned to the living room and sat in the chair angled toward Hannibal who was occupying the sofa. I never really spoke to him, I would just sit, listen to his words, and relax. I was only ever there to keep him company, a lonley monster must do harm for we have seen. Not that I knew it at the time, I was the only one who knew him. The village would not take too kindly to an eight foot, stiched up man walking near thier children.

            I lost the time pretty quickly, I woke up or at least I think I was asleep, to Hannibal's touch. I twisted my head around and waited for my eyes to adjust. When I could clearly see again, I discovered the living room was no longer there. In its place was a forest. The forest behind the house to be more precise. Hannibal was standing in front of me, his head slightly cocked. I was just as confused as he was. I don't recall getting up at all, and judging by Hannibal's concern, I couldn't have looked normal or said anything either when I made my out. I sighed, ignored it and waved back to Hannibal to follow me back to the house. When there, I checked the time. It was 9:50. I concentrated and estimated my arrival time to be just be around 2 PM. This had been the longest I had ever stayed, I normally come here for an 3 hours. I wrote it down as an anomly and retrived my purse.

"Goodnight Hannibal."

"Good-Night, Mr. William." He spoke slowly but clear and formal. His quickness to learn speech was remarkable and one thing I still find admirable.

            At home I dropped my bag into the closest chair and went straight to bed. As I was removing my coat, your paper peeked out. Not to be rude but I complelty forgot about it. I set it up high on a shelf in my room so my nosy dogs wouldn't fetch it and soon I was resting in bed. Well I was resting, at first but, tonight was the start of those horrid nightmares. I remeber all of them clearly, they always felt like they were real. Even now, I can swear I did them even though I didn't. This first was about Victor Frank. The man found dead just that morning.

            I left my home, staying on the stone paths only. Even jumping between grasspatches and onto meer pebbles in some spot. I was walking toward the village, no one seemed to see me. For an odd reason I knew where Victor lived and located his house. I stood behind it, making sure to hide myself. Mr. Frank turned to where I was, I thought he saw me and I scattered to the side of his home. If he did see me, he thought nothing more of it for he just continued walking on the grassy path that lead toward the forest. I crept behind him, stepping exactly where he stepped. I didn't veer off path at all or crunch a leaf. In no time we travelled miles away from the village. He was now stopping by a little pond in a tiny clearing. I charged at him, I didn't want to but I felt compelled. He screamed and yelled and shouted. I was on top of him, but I wasn't feeling guilty, I wasn't filled with rage either. I was just, killing. I ripped open his torso, the sound he made torn into me, the real me. I tried to wake up, I jerked, but I kept at it. I torn out organ by organ and mashed them to bits. Down my throat it felt disgusting but it was delisious. I let out a breath and looked down at the dead man.

            I almost fell out of bed when I woke up. A burning senstation infected my head, I shouted. My dogs stormed in barking, Clarice, my sussex, even jumped on the bed to try and comfert me. Her mission was a sucess and soon after the burning in my head had faded, I checked the time. It was 6:15. Since sleep wasn't doing me too well, I got dressed, grabbed your paper and left to town, hoping you were awake.

To my surprise you were outside that morning. You sat in business attire looking over papers scattered over top each other.

"Hello Crawford." I said, looking at the house instead of you.

"You know, You didn't give me your name yesterday."

"I'm Graham." I paused, deabated if I should even give my first name, "Will Graham."

You stood up from your chair and leaned against the table.

"Well, Good Morning Mr. Graham. I have a murder for you."

I slugged my shoulders back and shuffled closer to the table. You started explaining immediately.

"Two bodies were found very early this morning. The man was in the house, gun wounds and the women laid outside, cut throat." You placed the two sketches of the bodies on top of the papers.

The women's eyes were still open and she laid in a massive pool of blood. The man, on the other hand, was killed into a sitting position with 8 holes left in his torso.

I looked up from the drawings, "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to catch the man."

"The killer?!" I was not a detective, I couldn't catch a murderer. I only just saw what they did. "I can't do that!"

"Then figure out how because you are the only man for this job." You started to orgnaize the papers, or so it seemed and handed them to me. "Here is all the information we currently have. The address in on the 2nd page. The first page is the names and homes of all the officers also on the case."

            I had no words, I didn't even think about the time it would take just about the how. I simply nodded and walked back home.

            I missed my visit to Hannibal that day. I got home, read the papers, checked the crime scene, read the papers more and went to sleep. He didn't even cross my mind that day or the next or for the rest of the week. It was Saturday when I realizied I hadn't seen him. I wasn't progressing on the case and neither were the other men, so I put the papers away and went up the hill.


End file.
